


The Salt on your Skin

by redezzed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Irish Accents, Drinking, Ireland, M/M, Professor!Dean, Selkie!Cas, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redezzed/pseuds/redezzed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural creatures are Dean's specialty, he's spent years studying them. The stories and myths have always been interesting, and that's what draws him to Ireland. That, and trying to figure out how to operate like a normal person. Until he finds a weird bundle on the beach and a man shows up at his door a few hours later. But the legends aren't real.<br/>Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bottle rolled around in his hands as Dean spent yet another night in the town’s pub. A crash and a laugh sounded behind him, but he didn’t bother to turn around. The Irish were a lovely group, loud, boisterous, drunk, and in the past five months Dean had grown to like the town and it’s people. But he had spent five months in the same place. The wandering itch was back under his skin, the urge to leave and explore and experience and _drive_ …

Sam’s voice filtered back to him from their many conversations over the phone. _“You can’t keep running Dean. Soon you’re going to have nowhere to go. I’m not saying get married right now, buy a house and a picket fence and pop out 2.5 kids but…you need to think this through. I just want you to be happy.”_

_“What? And a relationship will magically make me happy?”_

_“A long term committed one, yeah. Look, I get it, you’ve got a wandering soul, but Dean you have to consider settling down. At least consider getting an address for more than a few months?”_

His brother’s pleading tone is what had done him in and that’s how a few weeks later Dean’s university had shipped him off the Ireland to continue his research. Ireland had been amazing so far, but…

His revery was broken by a large hand slamming down on his shoulder. “‘ey, fairy boy! ‘owaya?”

Dean grimaced, “Fine.”

Carrick was the dock manager, so Dean didn’t have a lot of interactions with him, but his wife, Marella, was the local librarian so they had talked extensively. His covert operations had lasted about a month until Carrick had gotten spectacularly drunk and announce to the whole bar that Dean was a fairy. Dean had been quick to reply that the correct term was fae, and he wasn’t one, but he studied them. Not that an occasional male figure hadn’t caught his eye, but really that wasn’t something you wanted to encourage in a pub filled with completely sloshed Roman Catholic Irishmen.

But studying them, that was true. Not in the literal sense of course, fae weren’t real, but folklore and mythology had amazing anthropologic relations to the development of cultures and really who can resist a good story. Ireland was steeped in folklore and old magic. Fae were normal myths, but Ireland had more exotic creatures like Banshees, Cat síths, Gancanaghs, and Changelings. It had been a fascinating five months, but Dean was getting tired of Carrick and his gang harassing him.

“How’s Marella?” Dean asked, in an effort to steer the conversation away from any more homosexual accusations. Carrick brightened.

“Better. ‘er mornin’ sickness is almost gone.”

“You should be getting home to her, especially tonight.” Dean half smiled at the intoxicated confusion on the man’s face.

“Why?”

“It’s Midsummer’s Eve. Dangerous night, full of magic and witchcraft. Don’t want your little son or daughter to grow up without a father because you got kidnapped by a fae, right?”

Carrick stumbled a bit backwards, “Roi. Gonna go ‘ome. Yeah.”

Dean chuckled as Carrick wobbled out and waited a few minutes before leaving some Euros on the bar and walking out into the warm night.

The pub was by the ocean, so everything smelled a bit like dead fish, but the breeze was blowing in and everything just sounded like waves and tasted like salt. It was one of Dean’s favorite things about the town, and the house he was renting. Everything was close to the water.  The port had a larger stretch of sand, but as the coast went further north and south it got less sandy and had more dark cliffs. Dean’s rented house was on the edge of town, with a breathtaking view over the cliffs and towards the ocean. He had discovered a small zigzagging path from the small strip of sand at the bottom of the cliffs up to his house and had often walked back home along the beach. It was calm, quiet, and it was a lot less likely that Dean would be stopped and chatted up by random nosey ladies who tried to pawn their eldest daughters off on him.

The girls were nice enough for a night or two, several were flat out gorgeous, but no one had held Dean’s attention in a long time. The women he actually dated had always been kind, pretty, wonderful people, but the relationships were short and unsatisfying. Lisa had held him the longest, but even the promise of a family wasn’t enough to keep the itch at bay. By the end of the year he spent at Lisa’s Dean was practically crawling out of his skin to be on the road again, chasing down ghost stories and monsters.

Why hadn’t anything stuck? Sam had been lucky, he had met the love of his life in college and it was puppies and rainbows ever since then. It was probably Dean’s fault. He had a tendency to not think everything through and generally just be an asshole. Maybe he pushed people away because-

Dean tripped and face planted into the beach. He came up spitting up sand and swearing.

“Karma.” he growled and pushed himself up to see what had tripped him. A dark bundle of cloth lay on the sand. Dean looked around for anything more, hoping this wasn’t a collection of abandoned clothes because that was not something he really wanted to stumble upon tonight. He reached out a hand to brush it, but recoiled when he hit something that definitely wasn’t an old sweatshirt. It had fur. But it wasn’t breathing or anything so Dean unwrapped it and laughed as he realized it was a seal skin. He was vaguely familiar with selkie myths, but hadn’t gone much in depth with them. His hands skimmed the worn fur. It was probably an old village tradition, Midsummer’s Eve had a lot of local legends associated with it. Perhaps leaving a seal skin was a way to pay homage or some symbolic act of returning what was lost. It was interesting, a puzzle, and directly related to their ancient culture. Which was why Dean had no qualms about tucking the skin under his arm and continuing on his way. It was too dark to study it here, and besides, he was an academic. Artifacts were his business. The worst that could happen is that he pisses off a few residents, but that would just be more of an excuse to leave. A bubble of laughter escaped him. Or, his future could follow the myths and he would end up with a hot submissive selkie wife.

“Win-win either way.” Dean whispered into the darkness.  

 

The knock sounded loud and persistence far too late at night. Dean rolled over and groaned when he saw the clock. Two am. Too early in the morning then. There was the knock again, banging on the door.

“Okay, okay! Gimmie a second.” Dean threw on a shirt but decided that if someone really needed him at two am they could deal with him in boxers. Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes and pulled open the door. “You better not be trying to fucking sell me anything.” Dean stared blearily at the man in front of him. Who was kind of distractingly hot. A sort of I-wish-we-didn’t-meet-at-2-am kind of hot. A sort of I-wish-you-weren’t-death-glaring-me sort of— wait a second.  

“I assure you, that is not the case.” Barely restrained fury simmered behind icy blue eyes and Dean finally took in the rest of the stranger at his door. The man was tall enough, but a few inches shorter than him, with a messy mop of dark hair and weirdly enough wearing a tan trenchcoat.

“Jeez, you look like a flasher in that thing.” Dean mumbled, definitely not thinking about anything dirty. Nope, no way.  

The man looked down, “It is not optimal but I had to make due.”

“Fuck, do you have anything under that?” His 2am brain was still in the gutter, but honestly Dean couldn’t see a neckline or pants sticking out anywhere. “Do you need something to wear?”

The man stepped forward, a hard smile on his face. “Yes. Preferably something warm, waterproof, dark brown, spotted…”

“What the hell?” Dean’s eye widened in recognition and he instinctively stepped backward. In a flash the stranger was stepping through the doorway and slamming Dean against the wall. The man was an inch from Dean’s face when he growled, a lip curling back a bit.

“Give. Me. Back. _My. Pelt_.” he spat out, blue eyes sparking, fingertips digging into his neck and arm.

“Shit.” Dean swore under his breath, “Look buddy, I wasn’t trying to disrupt any village ritual or anything.”

“Is this a joke to you?”

“What? No. I study legends and folklore, I saw the skin and wanted to know more about the tradition.”

“So you stole it.”

“Well...yes. I mean, what was the worst case scenario? I end up with a selkie.” Dean tried to joke. The man glared at him, seething anger but also as if he was looking at the stupidest person he had ever met.

Dean’s brain caught up with his mouth, “You can’t seriously be suggesting that you are a selkie.”

“Of course I can.” The man’s eyes flashed glowing blue and he opened his mouth in a growl. He had sharp teeth, a pair long ones on the top and the bottom. Dean physically flinched.

“Shit.” Dean swore again. His mind was tripping over itself. That was not normal, humans can’t do that. He… it? was definitely something. Holy shit. There was a supernatural creature standing in his foyer. And if he was a selkie, then… The possibilities were endless. Holy. Shit. Fairies, chimeras, djinn, ghouls, ghosts. Fuck, even vampires or werewolves. Dragons. Unicorns. Okay, now he was feeling hysteric. The man broke his wildly escalating train of thought.

“Are stupid? Are you mentally impaired? You were the one that stole my pelt. I am not a female selkie, I am not meant to be _bound. Release me._ ” He bared his teeth again.

“Uh...I’m pretty sure I don’t...have to?” It came out like a question.

The grip on his shirt pulled Dean away and then slammed him into the wall again. Fuck, he could practically feel the bruises forming from the tight grip on him.

“Hey,” Dean protested, “enough with the slamming. It’s too early for this shit. I might wake up in the morning and this could all be a weirdly unfulfilling dream. You can sleep in the guest room, and answer my questions about selkies and in a few days you can go back… wherever you came from.” There was a quick glimmer of pain in the selkie’s eyes but he quickly returned to glowering at Dean.

“That’s not good enough.”

“Look. You’re not going to find your… pelt. And I’m not going to release you so, let’s try this again. Hi. I’m Dean.” His head was pounding and them yelling at each other was going nowhere. He would return the seal skin, just… not right now. It’s not everyday you meet a supernatural creature.

“My name is Castiel.” There was exhaustion in his voice.

“That doesn’t sound very Irish, or has anything to do with the ocean.”

Castiel threw him a glare, “What did you expect, Liam or perhaps Sea Foam?” The tone was scathing.

“It’s just that ‘Castiel’ sounds more… biblical.” Dean hedged.

“Of course it is.” With that, the man padded barefoot out of the room and resolutely closed the guest bedroom door behind him.

Dean sighed and placed his head in his hands.

“Fine, I give in.” he muttered and quickly hit the one on his speed dial.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Sam answered quickly.

“Hiya Sammy, what if I told you that supernatural creatures were _real._ ”

There was a long pause. “I would tell you to stop drinking?”

“And if I insisted?”

“Research? I don’t know, call Bobby?” Sam half laughed, half sighed. “Why, what did you find?”

“There is a selkie currently in my guest bedroom. Stop _laughing_ Sam.”

“You mean you have a crazy person in your house, at, what, 2 in the morning, who thinks they are a mystical transforming seal.”

“Thanks, real helpful Sam.”

“Can I go back to bed now, jerk?”

“Bitch.”

“G’night Dean, good luck with your selkie problem, I’m sure Jess would love to meet her.”

“Night Sammy.” So what if he didn’t correct his brother on the correct gender of the selkie, it’s not like Sam would ever find out.

Dean paced his bedroom, trying to take deep calming breaths. Okay. He could do this. There was a selkie staying fifteen feet from him. Dean let out a nervous burst of laughter before bringing a fist up to him mouth to silence himself.

Selkies.

The revelation was life-altering, but more distracting was the buzz of questions already building up. Where did they come from? How do they shift forms? How do they differ from normal seals? How have they been able to hide their existence from humans for so long? Or at least cloud their existence in mythology.

So magically chaining a living, breathing, talking creature was kind of a dick move, but this was a once in a lifetime chance to figure out the truth behind lore. He couldn’t give that up. Dean had to keep Castiel here, for at least a little while.

 

The following morning Dean was up early, hoping the smell of food would lure his new house guest out. It worked, but Castiel just sat and stared suspiciously at the cooling scrambled eggs in front of him.

“So… I’m going to go to the library, are you good to stay here?” Dean tried not to fiddle with silverware. Cas’s hair was all fluffed up and rumpled and thoroughly distracting.

“You have my pelt, I must do anything you wish, _master_.” Castiel glared at him, words dripping with vehemence. And damn, that shouldn’t stir something in his gut because he was a professional—

“Anything?” The word was out before Dean’s brain had caught up. “Shit, don’t answer that. Right. Leaving.” Suddenly he was tripping over himself to get out of there before he seriously fucked everything up. Dean hazarded a glance back as he near sprinted out the door, but Castiel didn’t look angry. He looked confused. And maybe a bit…

Hopefull?

Dean closed the door resolutely and headed for the library.

  
  


The library was empty of patrons when Dean arrived, but that was normal. Marella gave him a wide grin as Dean opened the door. The little bells chimed and Marella folded her arms.

“Wat can I ‘elp yer wi’ today? Trouble wi’ brownies? Need a few four leaf clovers?” she teased in her pleasant accent.

“Actually, I was wondering what information you had on selkies?”

She whistled, “Fierce creatures, selkies. They’re wild animals who allerge givin’ up their freedom. I tink I ‘av an old Orchadian book that menshuns it. Gie me a second.” Marella slipped off her stool and waddled off before Dean could protest, a protective hand curling around her belly.

As he waited, Dean thought about Castiel, the reproach and anger behind his eyes every time he looked at Dean. Yes, Dean had accidentally stolen his property and basically enslaved him, but folklore was his life’s work! Castiel couldn’t honestly expect to leave immediately. Maybe if Dean explained that he just wanted to run some tests and learn more, the selkie would stop pouring hate into those piercing blue eyes.

Marella came back with an old book and broke Dean’s reverie on Cas’s eyes. She plopped the book down with a thud and a puff of dust. The spine cracked as Marella opened it and her fingers skimmed down a few pages until she tapped a passage twice and let out a triumphant sound.

“‘ere.” the accent leached from Marella’s voice as she read, “When angels felled, some felled on the lan’, sum on the sea. The former are the faeries an’ the latter were often said ter be the seals.” She spun the door and placed it in front of Dean.

“In the 18th and 19th century,” he read aloud, “the old folk claimed that the selkie-folk were, like fairies, fallen angels. They were condemned to live as animals until the Biblical Day of Judgement.”

“Yer know wat that means, roi?”

“It mean’s he used to be an angel.” Dean breathed out. 


	2. Chapter 2

Three hours later found Dean sitting in the back of the small library surrounded by books. He had started out reading everything but just ended up skimming as every one failed to contain the information he needed. Each one was about female selkies. He was spinning his phone in his hand before he realized he had to place the call. Dean sighed and hit the second speed dial.

“Dean?” A gruff voice answered on the other end.

“Hey Bobby,” Dean grinned.

“What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Can’t I just call you up because I feel like it?”

“You? Dean Winchester?” The was a fond pause, “Of course not. You’re a magnet for trouble.”

“I managed to stumble into this one all on my own this time.”

“Personal or work?” Bobby had been a close family friend, hell Dean considered him a stand-in father, but he was also the Head of Department at Dean’s university.

“Work. I need to know more about selkies. More than just hot chicks who turn into seals.”

Bobby laughed, “There is a lot more to selkies than just obedient women, even though most of the stories deal with those.”

“I’ve read most of them. A guy finds a skin, gets a girl, have a few kids, until she finds the skin and leaves them. Everyone ends up unhappy.”

“That’s for female selkies. There are legends about male selkies too. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” The suspicion was clear in Bobby’s voice. Dean hadn’t gotten better at lying to Bobby since he was nine and tried to blame breaking that hideous beige lamp on Sam.

“I know they exist, and that they aren’t like female selkies, but not much else.”

The was the sound of pages flipping from the other end. “Male selkies often seek out unpleased women, married or unmarried, and please them.”

“Please like… sleep with them.” Dean’s brain was instantly conjuring images of Cas naked and that was definitely not a good thing.

“They were legended to be extremely beautiful, almost bewitching. They had seductive powers over humans, with their voices and their touch. When women went missing it was assumed the male selkies had convinced them to come back with them. Women had willingly walked into the water and drowned themselves.”

“So, hypothetically, if someone took the pelt of a male selkie, would they react like a female selkie, or…”

“ _Hypothetically,_ ” the word was stressed, “no. They would still be bound, but they would feel no duty, no responsibility to the owner. Selkies are dangerous creatures. Wild animals do not like to be contained.”

Castiel’s words echoed in his head. _I am not meant to be_ bound.

“Hypothetically.” Dean offered weakly.

“Hypothetically. Good luck, don’t get yourself killed.”

“Not planning on it Bobby.”

“Idjit.” Bobby murmured and cut the call.

 

Dean opened the door to his rental cautiously.

“Cas?” he calls out, stepping in. He wanders through the living room, pausing in the door of the kitchen.

“Hello Dean.” A voice says to his right. Dean jumps and turns to see Castiel sitting in the shadows of the stairs.

“Jesus Christ, give a guy a little warning next time.” He puts a hand to his heart.

“My name is Castiel.”

“Yeah, I know, Cas.”

“What’s a Cas?” His blue eyes squinted and Dean tried to not find the tilt of his head adorable.

“Your name.”

“My name is Castiel.” The words came out slowly and paced, like Cas was speaking to a small child.

“Y’know. Castiel. Cas. Shorter, easier to say. Is that okay?”

Cas hesitated. “It’s not… bad.”

Dean took that as an okay. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s have lunch.”

Dean cooked and they ate at the little table by the kitchen, Castiel suspiciously taking small bites until finally deciding he liked grilled cheese. Dean laughed at the happy sounds Cas was making.

“I should make burgers, really blow your mind.”

“I did not expect,” Cas paused between bites, “human food to taste so good.”

“What do you eat when you’re top-side then?” Dean leaned forward.

“I don’t usually stay long enough.” Cas looks down awkwardly, “I just do my job and leave.”

“Right.” Dean coughed, trying to keep the blush off his cheeks.

Castiel’s gaze flick up to meet his eyes, “You learned more about my kind.”

“Selkies,” A meaningful pause, “Or angels?”

“Either.” Cas said with a bemused look.

“Why are you less hostile today?”

Castiel’s lip turned up at the side, “That was not what I was expecting your first question to be. I tried hostility yesterday. It was ineffective.”

“Really? Because I was getting the whole dark and scary vibes pretty cl— Okay! Enough wall-slamming!”

Castiel fisted his hands in Dean’s shirt, “Like I said, ineffective.” They were pressed up pretty close and Dean could feel the brush of air as Cas spoke. Fingertips skimmed his collarbone as Cas let go and stepped back. Dean’s skin felt all tingly where they had touched and his brain felt a little gooey. He would have to watch himself before he slammed Cas into a wall and just— right. Focusing.

“You said you would let me go once I answer your questions.”

“Yeah.”

“So ask.”

“Eager to get back?”

Castiel looked forlornly out the window, out to sea. “Yes.”

“Where do you live?” Dean asked.

“Deep in the ocean. We can swim further down than normal seals, but we still enjoy swimming by the surface, the reefs and rocks…”

 

There was something special about the way Castiel talked. The words washed over Dean, painting vivid pictures of a life down in the ocean. Cas talked about his family, his many brothers and sisters, and his favorites. Uriel, stern and formal, but with an unswerving loyalty to those he cared about. Balthazar, a joker who adored humans, especially the women, and who played games with his siblings by taking their stuff and hiding it in caves. Dean found himself laughing as Cas regaled him with the time Balthazar took a dare to try and please as many dissatisfied women as he could at once. Balthazar had returned to the surf smug and simply said ‘It was a menage de… what’s french for twelve?’.

“How do you guys talk to each other, when you guys are seals?” Dean leaned forward, curious. Cas tapped a finger to the side or his forehead.

“We can communicate with a form of telepathy. It’s more feeling than words, really.”

“Is that a selkie thing or an angel thing?”

Castiel flinched slightly and then shrugged uncommittedly.

Castiel only turned sad when he talked about Anael, his treasured sister who had been missing for some time.

“What happened to her?” Dean asked, forgetting himself.

Castiel’s eyes flashed, “Someone took her pelt.”

“Oh. Right.” Dean coughed and tried to change the subject, “So is she your favorite sibling?”

“No,” Cas smiled down at the table, “Gabriel.”

“Gabriel, like the archangel?” Dean remembered.

“He visits, sometimes. Gabriel left heaven not too long after Lucifer was cast down. He couldn’t stand the politics anymore.”

“Why is he your favorite?”

“He’s funny.” Castiel said simply.  

They talked more, about selkie culture. There wasn’t much there, a lot of human history is based on religion and sex. Selkies all believed in God and angels because they had experienced them first hand. They were all siblings, so there weren’t really any courting or marriage rituals.

“So how do you… repopulate?” Dean asked.

“We don’t. We are practically immortal in the sense that we do not need food and do not get sick. We can be killed, even if it is a bit harder than killing a human or killing a seal. Our numbers slowly drop and eventually none of us will be left. But that may take another thousand years, or another hundred.” Cas explained with a shrug. He talked about fairies, his land dwelling siblings and how deeply hidden they were now, and how uncommon. His voice turned flat as he described how when humans stopped fearing the fey they started killing them. The one thing he would not talk about is his duties on land.

“I already know what you do Cas.” Dean said, exasperated.

“You know what, not why, and I am forbidden to speak of Heaven’s mandate.”

“So God makes you sleep with women?”

“I refuse to speak on this, and you should respect that decision.” Castiel’s eyes bored into him.

“Fine.” Dean broke eye contact.

“What about you?” Cas softened.

“What about me?”

“Where do you normally live? Who are your siblings?” Cas paused, adding “Why do you sleep with women?” he teased.

Dean laughed, “I usually live in South Dakota, in the United States. Far, far away from the ocean. I work at a university, studying folklore and mythologies. I have a brother, Sam, who lives in California with his wife, Jess. He’s a lawyer.”

“You’re very proud of him.” Cas observed.

“Yeah, he was always the smart one, brains of the family.”

“I would beg to differ. You seem quite intelligent.”

“Nah, I just like stories.” Dean ducked his head to hide his blush.

“What about your parents?”

“Uh. I have Uncle Bobby, who isn’t really my uncle, but close enough. He’s also my boss, he got me interested in this stuff. But no, no parents.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s cool. My mom… there was a house fire. I was four. She.. didn’t make it. After that, my dad… well he fell off the deep end.”

“He drowned?”

Dean lifted his head and grinned when he saw Castiel’s confused look, “Ha, you could say that. He started drinking a lot, packed up and drove us around the country until we had had enough and we went to go live with Bobby. We heard from the police a few months later, drinking one night and went driving, wrapped himself around a tree. Blunt force trauma to the head and that was it. Sammy and I were orphans before I was out of elementary school.” Dean froze. Castiel had placed a hand on top of his on the table and gently squeezed.

“That must have been awful.”

Dean shrugged, faking indifference, “It was alright. I had Sam, we had Bobby. We survived and made our lives. We’re happy.” They sat there for a long minute, hands pressed together, deep calm filling Dean. He was happy. He had made peace with his childhood and moved on.

His phone ringing jarred him to life. Castiel retracted his hand and Dean tried to ignore how much colder he felt as he fumbled for his cell.

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered and answered the call, “Hey Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.” Sam drawled, “but you know that.”

“Sure I do, Sammy. What’s up?” Dean placed the phone on speaker.

Sam cleared his throat, “The origin of the selkie myth can be traced back to Ireland. In the past, people blamed the fey for birth defects. An old Irish family had birth defects that mutated their hands to resemble flippers, which they claimed was because their ancestor slept with a selkie. Research, Dean.”

Dean looked to Cas, who was smiling. “Is that true, Cas?”

“Of course not Dean, if we slept together our children would not have flippers.” Cas said with a slow smirk.

Dean choked on air and Sam laughed.

“That couldn’t happen, right?” Dean hedged.

“Are you seriously suggesting that selkies could fundamentally change male anatomy?” Castiel bounced his words from the other night back at him.

“I dunno what weird, fishy, stuff you got going on under that trenchcoat.” Dean defended.

“Maybe you will find out someday. And seals are not fish, Dean.”

Dean grumbled and looked away, brain skirting around the insinuations Cas was making. Sam hadn’t stopped laughing since the very beginning.

“Cas, it was nice to meet you.” Sam said, voice cracking over the long distance.

“You too Sam, your brother spoke of you very highly.”

“Whatever he said was lies, all lies.” Sam joked.

“Well, you’ll have to tell me some lies about him sometime.” Cas half smiled at Dean.

“Will do. Alright, I need to get back to papers.”

“Tell Jess she still has time to ditch your sorry ass.” Dean razzed his little brother.

Sam just sighed, “Dean, we’re married and I’m a lawyer, she has no hope for filing a divorce. But I’ll send her your love anyway. And Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean was distracted, Cas was standing up and gesturing towards the kitchen and walking away.

“Please be careful.” Sam’s voice was soft.

“Don’t worry about me Sam, I can handle it.” Dean blustered.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Sam mumbled before the line cut out.

 

They ate a pleasant dinner together. Dean hadn’t noticed the sun dropping as they had talked through the afternoon, so it was quite late when they actually started eating. They talked about simple things, little things, like childhood memories and stuff they liked. It was pointless towards Dean’s research but it was...nice. It was _really nice_.

Every time Cas smiled, Dean could feel himself smiling back. Every time Cas’s voice lifted in excitement or joy, Dean’s heart beat a little faster. It was really nice.

They parted, exhausted, and Dean went to bed happy and grinning and scared.

Because Cas was going back, not tomorrow but maybe the next day. Because that was their agreement. And Dean didn’t want to let him go.

Not yet.

Not when he was teetering on the edge of falling for him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be warned: nsfw

Dean woke up to the blaring of his fire alarm. In an instant he was up an out of his room and sprinting to the kitchen. Cas was standing next to the stove, a half-confused half-grumpy look on his face. The selkie prodded the contents of the pan with a whisk, the contents which were currently on fire and billowing black smoke.

“Cas, jesus christ, what are you doing?” Dean yelled.

Castiel glanced up at him, “Making breakfast.”

Dean quickly crossed the room, hip-checking Cas out of the way. He turned off the burner in a fast movement and moved the pan into the sink. The water hissed and evaporated into steam before finally putting out the flames and cooling down the pan. Dean sighed and leaned his head against the corner.

“I’m sorry.” Cas said softly, placing a hand on Dean’s where it gripped the edge of the counter. Dean turned his head to take in the selkie. With the combination of the sorrowful look and the warm hand on his, Dean just couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“I know, you just scared me.” Dean took a deep breath and regretted it the second the acrid smoke hit his lungs and he began to cough. “Come on, lets open some windows to let the place air out. We can go out and get breakfast.” His heart flip-flopped as Cas grinned and flitted off to open windows.

 

Breakfast turned into brunch as Castiel insisted they stop and look at everything. It started when they had exited the house, Dean carefully locking it behind him. Castiel had taken one look at the Impala and demanded Dean tell him how it worked. Dean felt relieved he actually knew the purpose of every single part of the Impala as Cas leaned into the popped up hood and pointed at the bits he found interesting. After that half hour discussion and a million questions about the practicality of combustion engines, Cas finally consented to ride in it. They had gone maybe a hundred meters before Castiel let out a loud gasp.

“What is _that_?”

Dean pulled the car over and looked out the window. “What is what?”

“ _That_ , that creature.”

“It’s a sheep. They’re kind of a dime a dozen here.” Dean made to move the car out of idle, but paused when he saw Cas’s pleading look.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, Dean?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Dean turned off the Impala and Cas was a out the door in a flurry of tan coat.

“Oh my god, you can’t just hop the fence, Cas.”

Castiel was already on the other side, looking conflicted, “But Deannn.”

“If we get arrested, you’re explaining.” Dean sighed. As much as he protested… it was kind of fun. The sheep didn’t skitter away like he had expected, but instantly flocked to Castiel. Cas just sat of the grass in the middle of all the animals, running his hands down their backs and murmuring nonsense to them. Cas just looked up at Dean, smiled, and twenty minutes later he found himself surrounded by sheep holding a lamb on his lap.

“They are very gentle creatures.” Castiel observed.

“They’re sheep, they don’t have a lot of brains.” Dean laughed.

“Nonsense,” Cas petted the lamb Dean was holding, staring into it’s eyes, “You’re very intelligent, aren’t you?” The lamb let out a little noise and they both laughed. Their eyes met and Dean smiled easily at Cas.

“Come on, I promised you breakfast.”

 

It was easily two hours until they finally made it to the diner. It was a ten minute drive, but apparently not with Cas. They stopped for questions about gardening, house color choices (“I don’t know Cas, some people just like beige. I thought you would like it, considering your coat.” “It’s a ridiculous colour for a house.” “What colour would you paint a house?” “Green.”), a lengthy discussion of the postal system, benefits of small businesses, and a long 45 minutes when Cas latched his eyes on a orange tabby cat.

Dean was tugging on Cas’s coat sleeves to drag him the last 10 feet.

“Dean, tell me more about bee’s, their social structure seems very interesting.” Cas demanded.

“Inside, inside. Come on man, I’m starving.” Dean pushed open the door to the diner with a ding. “Two for breakfast.” He told the girl inside.

“‘ow about lunch?” She smiled. Dean glanced at a clock and was surprised to find it was just past noon. “If you’ll folly me, I’ll sate ya.” Dean moved to follow, but Castiel threw a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Cas narrowed his eyes at the girl, “What colour is your house?”

“Yellow.” She blinked in surprise.

“Very well.” he nodded at Dean and trailed after the girl. Dean grinned and followed.

They got sodas and put in orders for burgers but Cas didn’t like the carbonation so Dean ended up drinking his and tried not to think about kissing him. When their food arrived, Dean waited in anticipation as Cas took the first bite. What he was not expecting was the practically pronographic moan Cas let out.

“These make me very happy.” Cas closed his eyes to savor the food and let out another moan.

“Maybe you should stop that.” Dean bit out, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Cas cracked his eyes open, sent a glowing blue look at Dean from under his lashes. Cas held the hamburger in one hand and slowly licked a dollop of ketchup off his finger. Dean glared at him.

“Come on Cas, you’re killing me.”

Castiel instantly sobered, “No, you’re the one doing that to me.”

“What?”

“I need my pelt back.” Cas leaned forward.

“Come on, it’s been like a day and a half.”

“I am not meant to be bound, you took half of myself away from me.” Castiel growled, the curious questions replaced with the raw fury from two nights ago. “The longer I am away from it, the more it hurts my Grace. It unravels itself.”

“Your Grace?”

“My Grace, my power, my essence, the equivalent of a human soul. I _need_ my pelt back.”

“You’ll get it back, tomorrow—”

“You said that yesterday.” Cas called him out on stalling.

Dean closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know, I know. I just… need more time.” He glanced up at Cas, “Okay?”

“That’s not good enough.” Castiel ground out.

“Well that’s all you’re going to get.” Dean snapped. Cas turned away from him, glaring out the window. “Look, I’m sorry.”

Cas shrugged, not making eye contact and went back to his food. They finished eating in silence. The drive back was better, Cas pointing out a few things but not asking any questions. They spent the afternoon pouring over books, Dean asking most of the questions and Castiel giving succinct answers. They discovered quite a few inaccuracies in the texts and Dean took notes on everything Castiel said. Dinner was a pleasant, if a bit quiet affair. Dean washed dishes as Castiel sat in the back room, staring out the window and over the cliffs into the ocean. As he placed the last dripping dish in the rask to dry he rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension that had been building all day in his muscles and in his head. Castiel quietly padded into the kitchen.

“What do you usually do in the evening to… unwind?” Cas hesitantly asked. Dean’s eyes immediately flicked over to a cabinet in the corner. Castiel caught the movement and walked over, opening it and pulling out the contents. Castiel lifted an eyebrow at the bottle of whiskey he held in his hand. He proffered it to Dean with a faint smile.

“Shall we?”

 

Dean didn’t really know how they ended up outside, but they did. They drank and drank and Castiel laughed at Dean’s dumb jokes until tears were dripping out of his eyes and he was clutching his stomach. Dean taught Cas how to skip and they raced each other through the darkness, feet catching on the surf and splashing all around them. They grabbed each others hands and spun around until they were dizzy, Dean humming Metallica and laughing as Cas’s uncoordinated attempts to dance with him. He felt so happy and sloshy, drunk on whiskey and CasCasCas. The way he grinned and laughed unashamedly on a beach in the middle of the night. The way their hands on each other felt. The bottle was nearly gone when they finally fell down to the sand, Dean dragging Cas to lay next to him, shoulders and arms and hips and legs pressing into each other.

Everything felt still in the night air, even though it wasn’t. Crickets and other insects buzzed around them and the steady rush of the ocean was ever-present in the background. The question was a whisper on his lips, a quiet murmur of a sentence.

“Is God real?”

Cas turned his head to face him. “I thought that would have been your first question.” A long pause. “He was. Before I fell, we would hear from him often, but the communication stopped several thousand years ago.” Cas rolled his head back to stare up at the stars. “And awhile after that, we didn’t hear anything. At first, we thought the angel stopped talking, but then we realized we just forgot how to listen.”

“You could hear them?”

“Yes,” Castiel smiled, closing his eyes, remembering, “Heaven’s Chorus, always playing in your head. It was so… beautiful.”

“Like, angel radio?” Dean asked. Cas just laughed.

“Yes, like angel radio. It’s gone now. My last link to home.” Everything was steeped in sadness.

“What happened?”

“Lucifer.” Spat out, full of betrayal. “He staged a rebellion, some of my brothers and sisters were stupid enough to believe him. I believed him. When the archangels found out, Lucifer was cast into hell, and all of his followers...gently pushed off the edge.” Castiel took a swig and chuckled darkly. “That, and ripped off our wings.”

“Cas.” Dean’s throat felt all full and achey. His fingers were somehow splayed against Cas’s stomach, but soon they were up by his throat, undoing buttons and tugging the white shirt off. Cas lifted his arms to assist and before long Dean had his hands on skin and flipping Cas over. Castiel pillowed his head on his arms and Dean stifled gasps as he saw the long raised scars that marred the selkie’s back. The fallen angel’s. His fingertips traced each one, barely touching skin as they stroked up and down. Gently, softly, Dean pressed a kiss into his shoulder blade, above the scars. Cas let out a soft sigh, before rising to meet him.

When their lips touched it wasn’t like fireworks. It was more like lava beneath the earth’s crust, hotter than imaginable and shifting, moving, but hidden if you didn’t know it was there. It was like Cas had let him in the secret, that it had always been inside him. Soon, Castiel was up, gripping Dean’s shoulder and deepening the kiss and everything tasted like whiskey and salt and it was so goddamn overwhelming.

Dean was so fucking lost.

He lay on a the beach in the dark, kissing Cas, and drowning drowning drowning in everything.

 

They stumbled up the stairs of the cliff, careful but drunk and clinging to each other and Dean hating every moment he wasn’t pressing kisses onto Cas’s lips. They were in the house, knocking into walls and tables and tripping up stairs and shoving their tongues down each other’s throat, the knob of Dean’s bedroom door pressing uncomfortably into his back. Until they weren’t, and Dean was falling and hitting soft cotton. Until Cas was manhandling his torso up and his shirt was off and then they were falling together and there was just skin and skin and Dean’s head was spinning and Cas was _everywhere_.

Dean felt like he was moving through water as his hands fumbled at Cas’s belt.

“Dean, let me. Let me take care of you.” Castiel’s hands were hot on his sides and Dean was sinking into the mattress and giving up every shred of control he had. Cas was heavy on top of him, pulling him up and tugging jeans down and then gone and Dean was just twisting his hips and stuttering into nothing and trying to remember to keep his eyes open, because he didn’t want to miss anything. But he couldn’t keep his eyes fixed on Cas until the weight was away and he blearily saw Cas shedding clothes and digging in a drawer, but then Cas was back with warm hands on his sides and flipping him over and Dean crashed back under the surface. There was a pause and a click and then.

And then—

God it hurt, but not enough to—

“Cas, don’t stop, don’t stop.” Dean panted. “I’m fine.” Because he was, he was fucking floating on cloud nine. Until it got _better_ and Cas was pulling him apart and open and covering everything in warmwarmwarm skin. It was...

It was hours. It was days. It was minutes.

It was bliss.

It was Cas gripping his hip. It was Cas’s warm breath by his ear. It was Cas pressing kisses into his neck, his shoulders. It was everything and warm and happy and so overwhelming that Dean tipped over the edge with a cry and that was... it.

He was gonegonegone, sinking into the depth of everything Cas, every inch that they touched. But a voice was calling out, trying to drag him back to the surface.

“Dean. Dean.”

“Wha…” Tired, everything was fuzzy and _tired_.

“One more thing, one thing and you can sleep.” The voice was intoxicating, Dean felt himself leaning towards it.

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Where’s my pelt?” The voice was soft, by his ear. Dean shuddered as hands ran gently up his back. He couldn’t even open his eyes.

“By the cliffs,” Dean murmured into the pillow, “hidden in a cave, in a box.”

“Thank you Dean, you can go to sleep now.”

“It’s safe. Gonna keep it safe for Cas.” Dean’s muddled mind tried to grasp the name, “Cas? Cas?”

“Right here Dean.” The voice. Cas’s voice, right. His hands still ran slow paths up and down Dean’s back and sides.

“What’s wrong? You sound sad. It wasn’t bad, was it?” Couldn’t be bad for Cas, had to be good. Good enough for him to stay. Why was he leaving again?

“I’m fine, it wasn’t bad.” But his voice still sounded sad.

“How was it?” Dean asked.

A long pause. “Righteous.”

Dean laughed into the pillow, everything getting darker and darker, further away. “You’re weird Cas.” He shuffled, making himself more comfortable, on the edge of sleep.

“I like weird.” Dean whispered.

“I like you too, Dean.”

“I like you _a lot_.”

The hand on his back stopped moving. There was an even longer pause than before. Dean forgot to wait for an answer, finally settling down. But he heard it, the second before he dropped into sleep.

“I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions? Concerns? One part left.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean woke up warm and content. He woke up with his legs tangled and his arms holding and a dark mop of hair tucked under his chin. Dean glanced down at Cas sleeping next to him and flopped his head back on the pillow, grinning like an idiot. God, he was so _happy_. And hungry. Dean carefully extracted his limbs, sliding off the bed and quickly throwing on clothes. He kept glancing as Cas, asleep on his bed, and smiling to himself. He walked into the adjoining bathroom to brush his teeth because alcohol-induced morning breath was kind of disgusting. Dean shut the door softly and glanced in the mirror.

Suddenly, everything changed.

The warm glowy feeling drained out of him, the buzz in his head disappeared and he realized that everything clearer and more real. Like the hard edges of the world were flooding back when he hadn’t even realized they were gone. Dean gasped, feeling sick, and grabbed both sides of the sink to keep from falling down.

What the fuck was happening to him?

Last night… last night— it rushed back to him. He told Cas where his pelt was. Why would he do that? Bobby’s phone call nudged the edge of his memory.

_They were legended to be extremely beautiful, almost bewitching. They had seductive powers over humans, with their voices and their touch. When women went missing it was assumed the male selkies had convinced them to come back with them. Women had willingly walked into the water and drowned themselves._

Dean was almost positive he was going to throw up. Cas had mind-whammied him, fucked with his head and made him give up secrets.

It was all fake.

Dean turned and slammed open the door. Castiel rolled over and blearily blinked up at him.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Cas reached for him.

Dean jumped away from him, “Don’t touch me, don’t even fucking talk to me, I know what you did.”

Castiel looked gutted, “No, I never meant—”

“Stop talking!” Dean yelled, backing away from him, “You got what you wanted. Congratulations, you won. Great act, I really fell for it. The real question is, why are you still here? Oh, that’s right, you shouldn’t be. Be gone before I get back.” Dean cut off Cas’s protested by walking out of the room, down the stairs and out the door only stopping to grab his keys.

Dean slid into the Impala, turned up the music and drove as fast and as far as he could go.

 

Castiel was sitting on a rock near the waters edge, clutching his pelt, when Dean got home much later. Dean had spotted him from the window, wearing that stupid tan trenchcoat and his legs had just taken him down the steep stone stairs until he was standing in front of the selkie.

“Why are you still here?” Dead, empty of emotion.

“I love you.” Castiel looked up, blue eyes mournful.

Dean backed up as Cas stood and tried to approach him.

“No you don’t.”

“Dean—” Cas reach out to grab his wrist. Instantly, calm was sweeping through him.

“No.” Dean ripped his arm for Castiel’s grasp, “Stop mind-controlling me, this whole time you were just fucking with my head.”

“Dean, I didn’t mean for this to—”

“For this to happen? No I’m pretty sure this was your plan all along.” Dean laugh harshly and took a sick sort of joy from watch Castiel’s face crumple.

“I can explain.”

“Frankly Cas, I don’t give a damn. You did it. You won. You have your pelt, so do what you've wanted to do since the very beginning. _Leave._ ” His voice broke at the end, but he was so far from caring. Castiel looked on the edge of protesting but then all the walls were back up and he was cold, unfeeling, unworldly being again.

“Goodbye Dean.”

Dean didn’t watch as Castiel walked out into onto the sand, stripping his clothes and walking unhurriedly into the surf. Dean flinched when the trenchcoat came off, hitting the sand with a dull thump. Cas draped the pelt around himself before the water was waist high and he was just calmly trailing his arms in the water until he was gone gone gone back into the icy depths. Dean sunk to the ground and placed his head in his hands. It bit like a knife, Cas going back so easily, walking out into the saltwater until he slipped into his other skin and just disappeared. How simply he changed forms and lost his messy hair and unashamed smiles and joy for human food. But he wouldn’t really disappear, because Dean knew every seal he would ever see for the rest of his life would make him stop. And think. And wonder if maybe those blue eyes held something more.

 

Marella took one look at him and was instantly on her feet. She flipped the open sign to closed and took one of his hands in both of hers.

“Yer look loike you nade a cup of tea.” She said softly and pulled him into the backroom.

Dean sat in a plush chair staring at the table in front of him but not quite seeing the swirling yellow-pink pattern. Marella fussed with the electric water heater and pour two cups. She sat down gingerly and pushed one of the cups in front of Dean. He curled a hand around it, more of the reassuring warmth than actually being thirsty.

“So who broke your ‘eart?”

“No one, it’s not that.”

“Really? Cos you’re lookin’ loike I shud pour you a shot, not a cup of tea. Tell me what ‘appened. From the beginnin’.”

Dean took a deep breath. “I found something on the beach, three nights ago.” Marella sucked in a breath. “A few hours later, this guy shows up. I thought he was crazy, but it started to make sense and… selkies. Selkies are real.” Dean laughed slightly hysterically, glancing up at Marella. She just looked sad.

“An’ then?”

“He wanted his pelt back, and I was going to give it back, I swear I was. But then he manipulated me. He fucked with my head, always touching me and talking to me until I couldn’t think straight. He made me think that— I thought… It was so hypocritical too.” Dean gripped the mug, starting to feel the anger inside of him again. “He kept going on and on about how important free will is, how he didn’t want to be bound because that took away his control and then he just goes and brainwashes me!”

“Cassie was always so adamant about his freedom, and his morals.” Marella said, her tone half fond, half wistful, but more importantly completely void of her previous accent. Dean stared up at her mouth agape.

Marella grinned. “Everyone was talking about the dark-haired man you took to lunch yesterday, it makes so much sense now. If I had known, I would have gone to see him. It’s been so long since I have talked to any of my brothers.”

“You’re a selkie? You’re Anna.” Dean grasped onto that piece of information.

“Yes.” Anna laughed, “Carrick found my pelt oh… seven years ago? Don’t look so angrily righteous, I’m quite happy. I have two kids, another on the way, and while Carrick can be difficult I still love him.”

“Righteous.” Dean echoed.

“What about it?” Anna asked.

“Cas, he um… to find his pelt he uh, _coerced_ the information out of me. I was kind of out of it, but he said it was _righteous_.” Dean let out a bitter laughed. Anna’s face instantly clouded.

“Oh no. Dean, this is very important, after he found the location of his pelt, did he leave? Or did he stay and talk to you?”

“This morning, I left because I was angry, but when I came back he was still there. Bastard had to get in a few last shot, fuck with my head even more.” Dean said darkly.

“Dean Winchester, what did he say?” Anna’s eyes flashed, so different from Marella’s kind ones, but Dean could see how the power had always been there.

“He said he loved me.” His throat caught on the words.

Anna softened, “He did.”

“No,” Dean shook his head, “No he didn’t. He fucked with my head, fucked me, and then left. He couldn’t have loved me.”

Anna leaned forward, “Do you know why selkies do what they do? Why we sleep with people?”

Dean shook his head no.

“It seems pointless, as if falling from Heaven wasn’t enough punishment. We weren’t always like this, we lived as seals for a long time until one of us died, killed by an early human. When we fell, we were no longer angels, but we weren’t seals and we weren’t humans, we were selkies. We were all of them. So selkie have souls.”

“So when you die…” Dean started.

Anna smiled sadly, “When we die, we go to Heaven. Like all pure servants of God. But that wasn’t okay, we were being punished. No eternal happiness for us. How could they solve the problem?”

“Make you go to Hell.” Dean whispered.

“Make us sin. We couldn’t go around killing people, so the archangels split up everything else. The fae have thievery and treachery and lying. Selkies have lust, sex out of wedlock.”

“Wait, so God or whatever head-angel-in-charge made you sleep with people so that in a thousand years when you die you get even more punished with eternal damnation?”

“Essentially? Yes. It was easier for some of us than others. I always found humans interesting, and it was just another facet of their culture and their psyche. Some tolerated it, like Uriel. Some loved it like—”

“Balthazar.” Dean said, a hint of a smile.

Anna grinned back, “Yes, my incorrigible brother. But others… couldn’t take it. Castiel always had the purest of Grace, of heart. He had unswerving loyalty and faith and morals. When he was led astray and fell, it devastated him. Castiel never truly believed in Lucifer, he just believe that Heaven could be better. Castiel never lost his love for God, so when he was forced to sin by the beings he revered, it weighed so heavily on him. He hated everything about what he had to do. It was sin, it was evil, it was vile.”

Dean felt like he was going to be sick. “So when… with me…”

Anna place a hand on his. “Castiel did not believe that sex was wrong. He thought lust was wrong. Current social trends have essentially nullified the wedlock clause, but the meaning behind it stayed the same.”

“It has to be more than lust.”

“If he said it was righteous then he believed that it was without sin. Which means…”

“That he loved me.” Dean’s voice was broken.

Anna smiled sadly, “I do not know if this will make it easier or harder for you. But you should know the truth. You have been a good friend to me Dean Winchester, you did not deserve this heartbreak, but you still have to deal with it.” She squeezed his hand. “This too shall pass, you will last through this.”

Dean nodded slowly, eyes dropping back to the repetitive yellow-pink, yellow-pink of the table.

 

Dean lasted three days until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to leave.

Because without Castiel, Ireland was just memories of legends and stories and history.

So he went back.

To his university, and Bobby’s house, and his brother, and the cute waitress at the diner who always flirted with him but he soon found he felt sick flirting back, because now everything felt a little more hollow. A little more cold.

 

Three months passed.

 

Sam sat him down in Bobby’s office and gave him a stern look. Dean glanced between Sam and Bobby.

“This better not be an intervention.” He joked.

Bobby snorted, “You need one, but no. It’s not an intervention. It’s a solution.”

Sam opened a laptop and clicked a few keys. “So get this, folklore says that unsatisfied women can make contracts with male selkies.”

“Sam.” Dean interjected, “I’m not enslaving him again, it’s over. If I can’t see him without owning him, then I don’t want to see him.”

“No, but they’re mutual contracts. Like, agreements to be together.”

“You really think this could work.” A sliver of hope rose in him.

“I really think this could work.” Sam said softly.

“Hypothetically.” Bobby smiled. “But…”

“What’s the catch?” Dean’s hands twitched.

Sam glanced over his notes, “After you have one interaction an individual selkie, you have to wait seven years to make another one.” Sam was pulling an impressive puppy face, full of sadness and pity and empathy.

“Seven. Years.” the words came out hollow.

Bobby stood and clapped him on the shoulder, “You’ll be working so hard, seven year’s will fly by.”

 

Seven years passed.

 

Seven years did not fly by. Sure, some days passed faster than others, but never in seven years did Dean suddenly realize that a couple months has passed without thinking about Cas. Some days stretched into millenniums. He would get distracted and fall into dark thoughts of finally seeing Cas and then Cas laughing in his face and walking back into the water.

But they passed.

Hours to days to weeks to years and they passed.

Until Dean was standing on the shoreline seven years later on Midsummer's Eve and his heart was beating out of his chest. He had read the text a million times, but that didn’t make it easier.

Seven tear drops, into the ocean.

Say the selkies name.

Simple right?

Dean wasn’t really the crying type (okay, he was, but only over sad movies and books and sometimes really good songs but— right, focusing), but it was easy when he thought about Cas. Not in the mushy gushy ‘oh I miss you so much’ way, but in the scared frustrated ‘what if you never really meant it’ sort of way. Dean stood there, barefoot in the cold water that was slowly soaking itself into his jeans and up his leg. He could do this. Dean bowed his head and counted as they dripped.

One

Two

Three

Four and Five quickly backing each other.

Six...

Seven.

Dean quickly looked up and wiped his eyes. He hesitated for a second, but it was now or never.

“Castiel.”

Soft, hesitant, scared.

A long, long pause.

Until there was a ripple in the water. Until there was a dark hard pushing out of the surf and there was Castiel standing in front of him ten feet away and clutching his pelt around his waist not looking a day older than when Dean had just met him. His blue eyes were wide with shock.

“Hello Dean.”

“Hiya Cas.”

They stood there just staring at each other until Dean cleared his throat.

“Castiel, I wish to make a contract with you.”

Cas’s face instantly dropped. “What will this contract entail?” He bit out.

“Well, it basically entails us seeing each other more often than once every seven years. Exclusive, you don’t do any other selkie duties with anyone else. And you pelt… remains entirely in your control. You would be free to be human or seal whenever you desired. Even though I hope you will chose to spend some of your time human. With me.” Dean’s voice turned soft and low by the end of it.

“Dean—” Cas hurried a few steps forward, holding out his hand.

“Do you accept the contract?” Dean interjected, stepping up to meet Cas.

“Yes, yes I accept.” Cas laughed.

“Good.” Dean surged forward and wrapped his arms around Cas, resting their foreheads together, “Don’t know what I would have done if you had said no.”

“Eaten pie and watched TV with Sam for a week straight?” Cas smirked.

“Dick.” Dean grumbled, drawing the selkie even closer.

“I love you.” Cas whispered.

“I know.” Dean grinned. Cas drew back a bit and frowned up at him.

“I do not understand that reference.”

“I know.” Dean pulled them back together.

“The contract is not finalized.” Cas said into his shoulder.

Dean froze, “What did I do wrong? What needs to happen? Cas, stop laughing!”

Castiel cupped his cheek, “Seal the deal.” There was a challenge in his eyes. Dean dropped his head, quickly capturing his lips. It was like being transported back seven years. The taste of salt and a faint buzz of magic, Cas licking into his mouth and everything warm and safe and fucking perfect.

They parted.

“That’s it?” Dean asking, trying to regain his breath.

“That’s it.”

“Is this the part of the story where we live happily ever after?” Dean teased.

“You would know better than I would, you are the professional.” Cas rolled his eyes.

Dean groaned, “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Of course not. Never, ever, ever.” Dean stopped him from talking with a kiss.

“Happily ever after?” Cas whispered, their faces fractions of inches from each other.

“Happily ever after.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to keep up with other things I write, I'm on Tumblr at awayinafastimpala. Thanks for reading!


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